THE STARLITE CAFE
I slip quietly into the room
the lights are soft and low;
I choose a corner seating,
this is a place I know.
I hear the hum of voices,
offering up poems and prayers;
I hear the clatter of keys,
as poets prepare to share.
This cafe is open all night,
it’s doors welcome all inside;
here we all come together,
here your tears will be dried.
Here we all are young again,
if that’s what we choose to be;
or we can laugh about our age,
for here, we are totally free.
The Starlite Cafe, my other home,
a place I have found new friends;
I pray that this wonderful place,
will never come to an end.
© Forrest Phelps-Cook
By forrestc
© 2008 forrestc
(All rights reserved)
| |